Navy Gothic
by burnmedown
Summary: Alpha's team leader disappears. Alpha Six can't figure out why no one seems concerned about this. And then things really start getting weird.


This was inspired by the fact that in season 3, Full Metal appears to be permanently running with Bravo despite still wearing his Alpha 1 patch, which raises several questions: Um, why? How? Why is no one concerned about this? Where's the rest of Alpha, and how did they react to their leader's sudden, inexplicable disappearance?

The result is a fic that's utter, absolute, irredeemable crack, and is also the fault of 1) the show writers and 2) dancemagic, who mentioned wanting a fic about Alpha's response to Full Metal's disappearance. I refuse to take all the blame.

* * *

It starts out innocuously enough: Full Metal is reportedly out for personal reasons, so Alpha gets assigned a Green Team instructor to act as their temporary leader. Blackburn says it should only be for a couple missions, tops.

There's some general quiet grumbling, because nobody loves having team dynamics interrupted with so little warning, but it doesn't take long for the rest of them to move on and focus on tactical concerns and mission objectives.

Before they leave, Kevin Breidy, AKA Alpha Six, takes a minute to send a quick text to his team leader - nothing nosy, he's nowhere near brave enough for that, just well wishes and a vague suggestion that they should get together soon for beers.

He gets a response almost immediately. It's characteristically cryptic, with more obscure emojis than actual words. There's a skull, some sort of bomb, and something that Kevin thinks might be a platypus, which he mulls over for much of the flight overseas.

The mission goes fine. Kevin doesn't get a chance to reconnect with his team leader before they catch their next spin. At the briefing, he asks his teammates if any of them have seen Full Metal, to which he receives a chorus of head shakes.

After gnawing at his lip for a minute, Kevin sighs and risks sending another text. The response this time doesn't contain any actual words at all, just multiple spiderwebs, a vase, and... is that a bone saw? Why do they even _have_ that emoji?

He spends that flight wrestling with the unsettling sense that he is being threatened somehow, which wouldn't exactly be out of character for his honestly rather scary team leader. Figures he'll get some clarity on that once he sees Alpha One again.

Except the next few spin-ups come and go, and there's still no sign of Full Metal's return. The Green Team instructor leaves and gets replaced by a different one. When Kevin asks Blackburn about it, all he receives in return is a noncommittal shrug, and then the Lt. Commander moves straight on into the briefing.

Kevin exchanges confused glances with Rafael, Alpha Five, his best friend on the team. They both know it isn't the time to be interrupting, pushing for an answer their squadron commander isn't ready to give, so they let it go.

Before leaving, Kevin sends off another text.

This time there's no response at all.

And that's about when things truly start getting weird.

_Something_ is clearly going on with Alpha One, but absolutely no one seems to want to talk about exactly what it is.

Blackburn is a stone wall, immediately changing the subject or just straight-up walking away. Lindell is even worse. He literally shuts the door in Kevin's face and then immediately turns off the light in his office, even though Kevin obviously knows he's still inside because he just saw him three seconds ago.

He gives up and walks away, at which point he is absolutely certain he sees Full Metal disappearing around a corner ahead of him.

Kevin's heart jolts with unexpected hope. "Hey, wait up!" He calls, putting on a burst of speed around the bend.

Then he stops, because all that lies in front of him is an empty corridor.

That's not the last time it happens, either.

He thinks he catches a glimpse of his team leader through a window. When he makes it inside the room, there's no one there - but there _is_ a cup of coffee on the table, still warm. It's made up the way Full Metal likes it, acrid and burnt and strong enough to float a horseshoe in, with just the tiniest splash of cream.

Kevin stares down at the disgusting coffee and decides that he is losing his mind.

The next few days do nothing to disabuse him of that notion.

When Kevin once again asks Blackburn where Full Metal is, the squadron commander looks at him, eyebrows drawn together, and asks with apparently sincere confusion, "Who?"

Kevin shuts his mouth with an audible click, turns on his heel, and quickly walks away.

The next day, he drives out to the little old house he knows Full Metal has been renting for years now. When he pulls up into the driveway, he feels confident that this will finally be the day he gets some answers, because Full Metal's truck is parked out front, and he can see through the windows that all the lights in the house are on.

Kevin knocks, and then he knocks some more, and then he rounds the house to knock on the back door too. No one ever answers. Both doors are locked. He thinks about trying to pick the locks, but decides he isn't quite desperate enough to be that brave yet.

He's on his tenth round of knocking when a neighbor calls out over the fence, "Son, can I help you?"

Kevin spins around, catching sight of an older man watching him with an expression that hovers somewhere between suspicion and concern.

"Yeah, maybe," he says, crossing the driveway so they can hear each other better. "My, uh, my friend lives here, and I haven't been able to get a hold of him for a while. When was the last time you saw him?"

The man just looks at him for a minute. His expression seems to shift over to the concern side of the spectrum. "Son," he says slowly, "ain't nobody lives there. That house has been condemned for years."

Kevin's disbelieving laugh catches in his throat. He turns, arm already half out to point at the truck and the lights, and stops dead, his heart thumping in his ears.

The house sits dark, empty and silent, paint peeling, half its windows broken. The front door sags on broken hinges. Kevin's car is the only vehicle in sight.

He doesn't even remember the drive home.

He turns the shower on hot, climbs in with all his clothes on, and has a quiet panic attack.

When Kevin can finally breathe again and his shaking has lessened slightly, he digs his damp phone out of his pocket and texts Rafael: _there's something seriously off w this whole Metal thing. can we meet?_

The response comes within seconds. _This whole what thing? What's 'metal'?_

Kevin stares at the phone. His vision swims.

Another text: _Kev, what's going on? You OK?_

Fingers numb, he responds, _nothing, sorry. texted the wrong person._

He shuts the phone off, absent-mindedly drops it into the garbage can, and slides down against the wall to stare blankly for a while.

* * *

Kevin wakes up with a headache and a vague, unplaceable sense that something is wrong.

He lies for a while, staring up at the ceiling, trying to figure out what might be bothering him.

Romantic relationship? Nope. He and his last girlfriend amicably parted ways several months ago.

Recent mission? Nah, those have all been going well. He's really starting to feel like he fits in, like he has a true, permanent place on Alpha, a vital role to fill.

Friendship drama? Not that he can remember. Raf is his best friend, and the two of them never fight. His relationships with his other team members occasionally carry a little tension, but no more than expected, and nothing they can't work through.

Finally, he shrugs, rolls over, gets up, and wanders into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

There's a post-it note stuck to the middle of the bathroom mirror.

In big, shaky handwriting that looks strangely like Kevin's own, it says, _FULL METAL WAS REAL. DO NOT FORGET HIM._

What the actual fuck is a 'Full Metal'?

Kevin stares at it for a minute, toothbrush still protruding from his mouth.

Is this a practical joke? That he played on himself? While drunk?

Honestly, he wouldn't put it past himself. Drunk Kevin is a fucking _asshole._ One time Drunk Kevin filled a water bottle with vodka and left it on the bedside table, knowing Hungover Kevin would wake up thirsty and take a great big swig of it.

He shrugs, pulls off the post-it note, and throws it into the trash can. Where it lands right on top of his phone.

Okay, yeah. This has to have been Drunk Kevin being a shithead again.

Funny thing is, he doesn't remember drinking last night.

In fact, he doesn't really remember last night at all.

Whatever. He doesn't have much time to dwell on it before his phone buzzes and it's time to head to base.

On the way in for the briefing, Kevin passes Bravo Team walking down a corridor. He gives them a brief, friendly nod, his eyes sliding past Hayes, Perry, Spenser-

Behind them, at the back of the group, there's a strange, elongated, vaguely human-shaped shadow, blurry and indistinct, like a smudge of moving darkness. Kevin's eyes won't focus on it. Even just trying to look makes him feel nauseated.

He blinks and glances away, swallowing hard. The sense of unease from this morning is back with a vengeance, crawling over his skin like a swarm of insects.

What the _fuck?_

When Kevin finally manages to get himself together, the corridor is empty, and he realizes he's about to be late to the briefing. He shakes himself and gets moving, making a silent vow that he'll investigate further once he has time.

By the time he reaches the briefing room, he doesn't remember that he ever saw anything strange at all.

Everything is just fine.

He's sure of it.

Kevin moves the random cup of weird, sludgy coffee out of his way, sits down, and focuses on the upcoming mission.


End file.
